


I’m Not Like The Regulars (And All You Do Is Try, Try, Try.)

by LouStylesHTommo (Mymelodii)



Series: Dreamscape Vol.28 [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Because they kinda share that really, Bottom Louis, Established Relationship, Implied Switching, M/M, Obnoxiously sweet, Porn with Feelings, Size Kink, Top Harry, mpreg kink but not really mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27539560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mymelodii/pseuds/LouStylesHTommo
Summary: This one is all about having sex and NOT feeling sad.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: Dreamscape Vol.28 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740700
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

There’s a reason Harry is usually the little spoon if they cuddle to sleep. They have a penchant for turning actual sleep into a pipe dream whenever he’s the big spoon. Tonight is no different. No matter how exhausted the rest of him is, his dick forgets the memo as soon as Louis’s bum start making a slight wiggle.

“Baby,” Harry mumbles, nuzzling his fidgety spouse’s soft hair, “Stop wriggling. Sleep.”

“I’m just trying to get comfortable,” Louis mutters, still jittery in the cocoon of Harry’s embrace under their shared duvet. “I’m cold. Hug me.”

“I am literally hugging you right now, honey.” Harry sighs, stating the obvious and tightening his arms around his restless spouse for emphasis. They’re already almost as close as humanly possible, completely naked with their legs entwined and everything.

“Well, it’s not enough,” Louis complains and squirms some more. “I’m still cold.”

Harry places a gentle and hopefully calming kiss on the nape of his little spoon’s neck and offers, “Want me to go turn up the thermostat?”

“No. It won’t warm up any faster. You know that.”

Harry can hear Louis’s pout loud and clear. He is also steadily going from half-hard to fully-hard as his petulant sweetheart keeps trying to snuggle closer, so he asks, mostly as a flirtatious joke,

“Want me to warm you up from the inside?”

“Aren’t you tired?”

Louis’s questioning response is clearly not a no. Harry blinks and blames his late realisation on the jet lag as a lightbulb finally goes off in his head. There’s a specific reason Louis has decided to manhandle Harry into being the big spoon after all.

His fussy spouse is actively asking for it while avoiding asking for it outright. Because they’ve made a deal since forever ago that sex is good any time of the day—as long as the initiator is ready to do all the work—and Louis is most likely in the mood to do nothing but be pampered and spoiled rotten.

So Harry answers agreeably, “Not too tired to fuck the love of my life, no.”

The love of his life twists around and presses a few travel-sized packets of lube on his chest, over his heart. If Harry weren’t already sure about what Louis wants before, he would know beyond a shadow of a doubt now.

Louis gives Harry a coquettish glance from beneath his beautiful eyelashes and asks coyly, “Will you?”

Harry nods happily. He is actually the one who has a soft spot for mellow nighttime intimacy while Louis usually prefers enthusiastic daytime shag. So this is a pleasant surprise.

His sweet spouse pulls him in for an appreciative kiss before reminding Harry how it won’t take much to get Louis ready for his cock. Not when they just renewed their memberships at the Mile High Club on their way here.

Harry giggles, recalling how his delinquent dearest had cheerfully goaded him and their fellow passengers on the private jet into a lap dance battle, and had given Harry an unfair win due to extreme bias and lack of competitors without anyone batting an eye. How they proceeded to hide under the blanket and pretend to have sex, making quite a racket and getting on everyone’s nerves, before chortling like naughty schoolchildren when Oli exasperatedly told them to cut it out.

(To this day, Harry is still in awe of his then-boyfriend for coming up with literally the greatest diversion tactic ever since they were newbies to travelling and performing all around the world. Get caught fake-fucking often enough and their crew start thinking it’s just another one of their obnoxious pranks when they’re actually fucking loudly in the WC.

Harry himself has learned to pack an extra set of clothes for both of them ever since that one time things got super intense mid-flight. His absolute refusal to let anyone call their obvious afterglow a walk of shame ever again endears him to Louis endlessly. And it came in especially handy today after their half-an-hour long trip to the loo.)

Harry doesn’t mean to turn a quick perfunctory prep into a drawn-out foreplay. But his favourite tiny person moans his name so sweetly and doesn’t tell him to hurry up. So Harry doesn’t see the need to rush it. 

His tiny person does yawn, though, eventually. That’s when Harry collects another series of adoring kisses from his dearest darling and gently turns Louis around so they lie chest-to-back again.

His hard-on nestles snugly between his sleepy sunflower’s sweet cheeks, gliding aimlessly back and forth as Harry rocks their bodies together tenderly, until the head of his cock catches on his ravishing sweetheart’s yielding rim.

Then it’s just a matter of pressing in a little, like saying a quick _Tadaima_ at the same time as hearing Louis’s body tells him _Okaeri_ , before the person Harry married effortlessly lets him in—easy as anything—more than willing to figuratively welcome him home.

(It’s not Harry’s intention to butcher the Japanese language for sexual innuendoes. But they did spend half of their honeymoon secluded in a quaint little seaside town in Kyushu before heading off to Tokyo and its suburbs. Some new habits die just as hard given sentimental attachment.

On the other hand, his most well-known pet name for his irresistible beloved absolutely is a dirty pun. As far from innocent as baby cakes, no matter how many pictures of literal baby!Harry Louis wheedled out of his mom to put some on his birthday cakes year after year.

He couldn’t help admiring Louis’s dedication to cheeky denials, though. Actually, Harry can’t help but admire Louis’s everything.)

Harry keeps holding Louis close, savouring the heavenly feeling of his little darling’s rippling heat greedily clutching his eager rigid shaft at every minute movement as he sways their bodies together. Louis drowsily declares that this is simply the laziest lovemaking in history, to which Harry thoughtlessly responds by crooning, “ _Call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to._ ”

In a blink of an eye, the most adorable sleep-addled person almost commits a gruesome murder due to unfounded jealousy. Harry narrowly escapes the wrath of his tiny hissing ball of rage by showering his feral kitten with blatant gestures of affection, including softly cooing, “ _I fell in love with a beautiful boy and you still take my breath away._ ”

It takes Harry five whole minutes to whisper enough sweet-nothings for his mollified pet to mewl his name so prettily once again. Mentally patting himself on the back for unnecessary crisis averted, he resumes slowly fucking his lovely sweetheart, fondling and peppering doting kisses anywhere he can reach all over Louis’s skin.

Harry delights in feeling for the outline of his own cock buried deep inside his small spouse’s body. Louis’s belly has been bulging almost imperceptibly underneath his careful hand. When he presses down on it, the effect is instantaneous. Louis cries out, clenching down hard. Harry sees stars dancing behind his eyelids for a few glorious seconds.

He can’t help grinning from ear to ear, exceedingly giddy and smug in equal measure as Louis starts mumbling filthy flattery and nonsensical demands,

“Haz, that feels really good. You feel so good. Best cock ever. Don’t stop giving it to me. Fuck me forever, Haz. I love you. Love your cock. And your curly locks. Everything about you. Love you more than anything. Oh, oh, Hazza, did you know you’re my most favourite husband? Am I yours? Do you love me the most, too?”

“Yes, honey. Of course,” Harry confirms cheerily, answering his sweetest spouse’s every word in one go. He successfully resists the urge to point out that Louis literally has only one husband, Harry, who has the best cock ever apparently.

Harry chuckles quietly, prefer to keep his own voice down during sex and just listen uninterrupted. Because the greatest music of all time is the sound of Louis’s voice—breathlessly singing proclamation of love for him to the rhythms of his thrust—accompanied by slick sound of skin on skin and rustling bedsheets.   
  


Louis keeps making all of his favourite noises and Harry keeps fucking his dearest sweetheart unhurriedly. He strokes Louis’s belly to distract himself and slows down even more whenever he gets close because the devil in his fuzzy brain insists on making sure his only angel gets there first.

The loveliest person in the entire universe places gentle hands on top of his and laces their fingers together. So they’re fucking, hugging, and holding hands all at once. As if that weren’t enough to sincerely fill Harry’s heart up to the brim with happiness, his small spouse has to go and whimper, “Will you still hold me this way when your baby turns me into a beached whale?”

That lovely imagery hits Harry like a freight train.   
  


(Harry will never get over how Louis does this thing where he takes Harry’s desperate desires and casually treats them like a forgone conclusion. Like it’s inevitable that one day all of Harry’s dreams will come true. No matter how odd and fantastical they are.

No metaphor will ever compare to how brilliantly Louis shines for him. But Harry doesn’t know how else to explain the way Louis gradually picks apart all of Harry’s strange pieces, brings them into the sunlight one by one, looks into every nook and cranny until he truly understands each of Harry’s deepest darkest desires, and then calls every single one of them sweet and wonderful.

Louis never fails to reassert that Harry’s pretty pieces have always been right where they belong. When Harry finds it hard to believe, Louis counters all of Harry’s negative remarks by trying on those peculiar pieces himself like it’s no big deal. Like they’re his favourite jumpers on a cold day. Before he challenges Harry to say it again.

Harry never does. Because Louis always looks like he just walks right out of one of Harry’s dreams. So beautiful that he inspires Harry to regularly give the game away and basically blurt out besotted songs like, “ _I still can’t believe that you’re mine._ ”

Louis usually just smiles indulgently and puts Harry back together exactly the same way he was before—because, of course, Louis remembers—with so much love shining in his blue, blue eyes.

As if nothing has changed.

Yet everything has changed.)

It’s entirely possible that Harry is choking back tears, overwhelmed with the hope of it all as he say, “No. Not a chance. You’re too tiny to be a whale. Dolphin, maybe.”

Louis’s response sounds positively pique. “Fuck you. When my kid gives you none of the glow and all of the pimple breakouts, I will have no sympathy for you. None. In fact, I will laugh in your fac—Oh my god, Haz.”

Louis squeaks, abruptly ending his peevish rant as soon as his dear husband starts jerking him off as well as fucking him harder. Then Harry also fucks three fingers into his mouth and Louis is rudely thrown into the throes of orgasmic ecstasy.

He may have screamed. Or not. Louis isn’t so sure. His only awareness is of his beloved husband filling him up everywhere, surrounding Louis’s entire being with the most loving things—including a knowing whisper.

“You can pretend all you want, but we both know you’ll wait on me hand and foot when I’m pregnant with your child. Don’t worry, darling. I’ll spend my whole life and eternity returning the favour. In fact, I will always hold you this way whenever you ask me to.”

Or maybe Harry isn’t saying any of those and Louis is just dreaming. He’s really, really not sure.

  
Harry is pretty sure Louis just nods right off with that sweet, sweet, screaming orgasm even though his clutching heat is still mercilessly milking Harry’s cock. But Harry can’t be absolutely certain, so he makes sure to reaffirm his promise to love Louis forever out loud before the last of his functional brain cells give in.

Blissful wave of intense euphoria crashes down on him there and then, promptly pulling Harry under into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.


	2. We’ll Play Hide-and-Seek (In Places We Can’t Even Pronounce)

Louis wakes up with the sun and his husband’s morning wood snug inside him. It’s not a bad feeling per se. He just doesn’t want to think about how it’s going to sting when Harry pulls out. Hopefully, his attentive Hazza will realise what’s going on as soon as he becomes conscious and won’t move too quickly.

Who is he kidding? Louis will make damn sure that his husband cannot even budge a millimetre before lathering Louis’s rim with the most copious amount of lube. Who the hell fall asleep with their dick still inside their significant others? The person Louis married, that’s who.

Louis sulks as the morning sun goes to hide behind fluffy clouds as if to commiserate with him. Just because Harry is the love of his life doesn’t mean Louis has to like him.

It does mean, however, that Louis will never have the heart to interrupt his husband’s much-needed rest, even if Louis is not too fond of him right now.

Still, if Harry doesn’t stir from sleep to fix this soon, Louis is going to ban sex at night for a week.

(Again, who is he kidding? It’s way more likely that Louis will fuck Harry to sleep tonight for the sole purpose of giving him a taste of his own medicine. It’s also exponentially way more likely that Louis will change his mind about payback and end up treating his doe-eyed darling really well in the afterglow instead. Because tender loving care is what his beloved Hazza always deserves. And Louis is so far gone for his husband it’s not even funny.)

Harry wakes up to overcast sky and an uncomfortably tight grip on his thigh. His feisty sunshine hisses, “Don’t move,” and pinches his arm in warning. Harry winces and drops a gentle kiss on Louis’s shoulder in lieu of an apology as his groggy brain tries to catch up on the reason he has to apologise in the first place.

“You didn’t pull out last night,” Louis grumbles, voice hitching when his husband nuzzles behind his ear and mumbles,

“I thought you wanted to give me a sexy wake-up call.”

“I would’ve if your cock weren’t inside me when I woke up,” Louis whines and grimaces, realising how much of a tease that complaint sounds.

“Would’ve been me waking up with your cock inside instead, innit?” Harry quips and, out of nowhere, all Louis can hear is a rush of anger. He forces himself to take several deep measured breath, so he doesn’t throw ugly hurtful words he doesn’t mean at his oblivious husband who can probably feel Louis’s entire body tensing up everywhere.

Harry moans helplessly as his tiny spouse’s scorching little hole squeezes even tighter around his cock, before he finally recognises how unpleasant their current predicament must be for Louis who has a white-knuckled grip on the duvet all of the sudden.

“Oh, darling. I’m so sorry,” Harry murmurs and that’s when Louis starts threatening to withhold sex for a month.

“Don’t you even dare to think about fucking me. And I won’t be fucking you either. No rimming. No blowjob. No handjob. Nothing.”

They both know the follow-through of these threats are so laughably improbable. But Harry wisely keeps his mouth shut. He is extremely grateful that some unused lube packets from last night are still within reach.

Knowing full well that his disgruntled dearest would not appreciate cold lube in the slightest, Harry rubs his palms together to warm it up while Louis curses his dick to the moon and back. Such a contrast from the usual fervent praises that Harry unthinkingly blurts out, “You were taking it so well last night though.”

Immediately, Harry wants to die. He wishes instant regret could open up the portal to hell and swallow him whole as the love of his life tenses up again and stops talking. He tries to concentrate on uncoupling them extremely carefully and apologising profusely at the same time.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to say that. This is my fault and that was uncalled for and I’m really sorry.”

Harry swears under his breath when his stupid dick refuses to take the memo and go down, literally making it harder to pull out of his delicate spouse’s tight heat without the risk of causing minor injury in the process. Louis starts shivering silently and Harry believes he just won a trophy for the World’s Worst Husband, fair and square, because it’s not even 8 AM yet and he’s already making his small sunflower cry.

“I’m so sorry, honey. I never meant to hurt you. I love you. I love you so much.”

Harry turns Louis around in his arms as soon as physically possible, determined to make it up to his beloved spouse somehow. It takes more than a few seconds and an amused snicker from his beaming sunshine for Harry to realise that Louis has actually been shaking with suppressed laughter this entire time.

“What?” Harry is so, so confused.

“I love you too. So much,” Louis tells Harry and pulls him in for a kiss, morning breath be damned. Harry also goes along easily when Louis pushes him to lie on his back and straddles him and smiles so mischievously.

“I accept your apology since you were incredibly careful not to hurt me. But I still want you to make it up to me.”

Harry is still a bit baffled as he nods. Louis snickers and reveals his hidden agenda.

“You’re going to piggyback me to the shower and run your soapy hands all over me. We’ll come back to bed nice and clean. Then you’ll stay very still while I’ll play with you however I want.”

Harry’s mouth falls open in surprise. He has been expecting a stormy expression and somewhat cold shoulders. But, as always, Louis manages to exceed his expectations in every which way.

It’s almost like Louis can hear his thoughts. Because his only angel grins wickedly, and leans down to whisper into his ear, like an absolute devil in the sheets that Harry sings about in every other song of his.

“You are not allowed to touch me back and you are not going to come until I say so. When you do, it’s going to be inside me. Because after that, I will sit on your face and you will clean your own come out of me with only your tongue. Thoroughly.”

Harry doesn’t know how it is possible to fall in love with the love of his life over and over again, little bit more and more each time, but it is. He tells Louis so between their kisses in the shower.

If they take too long in the bathroom—in the jacuzzi, specifically—and Louis’s sweet little noises echo much louder in a room full of tiles, no one has to know.

Except Harry, of course.

He knows exactly how Louis sounds when he’s getting filled up in all the right places, in all senses of the words. Inside his exquisite figure. In front of their fireplace at home, or in their shared dressing room backstage. Up high in the sky, or in the backseat of a car. Against the floor-to-ceiling window in a penthouse of random hotel rooms, or from their reflection in a mirror.

Frankly, the lack of an actual bed never stop them before. As long as they’re together and hidden away from prying eyes, Louis always keeps his promise to make any places feel like home.

Louis also has never ever hesitated to take Harry’s hands for a spontaneous trip either. Because Harry keeps his promises, too.

_“C’mon, Lou. Let’s go.”_

_“Go where?”_

_“Out. Now.”_

_“Okay, so we’ve just run away from our own crew.”_

_“Yup.”_

_“Where exactly are we going?”_

_“It’s a surprise, baby. I promise you’d like it.”_

_“See, Google tells me that this hotel is designed by Keanebrands. And, most importantly, nobody knows we’re here. So, quite literally a double Somewhere Only We Know.”_

_“Haz, your determination for lyrical puns continues to go above and beyond my wildest_ _dreams.”_

_“Crazy, right? Wanna go get a divorce tomorrow?”_

_“What on earth are you talking about? This is the best reason to sneak out of the airport in the history of ever.”_

_“I mean, so you can propose to me all over again. C’mon, Lou. I know you want to.”_

_“No, Hazza. Paperwork’s a nightmare. Let’s just skip to the honeymoon. You got the key, right? C’mon, let’s go.”_

It’s typical, really, that Louis and Harry keep taking turns being the instigator of mischiefs.

Because just like everything else in this dream team:

**They kinda share that, really.**

‘ _Cause we got all night._

_And we’re going nowhere._

_I know the way._

_Why don’t you go there with me?_


End file.
